


One Moment in Thirty Years

by Ford_Ye_Fiji



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Bill is a jerkface, Depression, Feels, Gen, Grunkle Ford Needs A Hug, Grunkle Stan Needs A Hug, I'm in love with this au, Lighthouse Keeper AU, Monsters, One-Shot, Suicidal Thoughts, hurt and no comfort, sea creatures - Freeform, sorry - Freeform, theres too much sadness and no fluff, ugh I got ramble-y
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 00:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10605837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ford_Ye_Fiji/pseuds/Ford_Ye_Fiji
Summary: The creature lays in wait at the bottom of the ocean, a brother imprisoned in its grip and a single yellow eye watching the Lighthouse patiently..The brother's soul isn't there, under the briny water, instead he keeps a steady vigil over the Lighthouse and its sole saddened occupant..The steadfast Lighthouse Keeper works tirelessly as he tries to get the Light running which would bring doom and salvation simultaneously if it was lit.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impish_nature](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impish_nature/gifts), [GarrulousGibberish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarrulousGibberish/gifts).



> impish_nature and GarrulousGibberish's Lighthouse Keeper AU is amazing, please go check it out!

In the quiet deep of the ocean, in the farthest recesses where even the most blind and vile creatures dared not go, there resided the beast. The Beast was a creature of unfathomable horror, a sort of Eldritch abomination, something too terrible to speak of. All sharp yellow rotting teeth the size of sabers and long writhing tentacles a pond scum black, coated in slick shiny sliminess and sharp scales. Attached to it was a large, yellow, bulbous eye, adapted for the dark unspeakable parts of the watery depths with black spikes lining the edge of it's slime skin. The chilling sight of it was passed down from generation to generation, garbled and confused, until the only thing the townsfolk could remember was a distinctly unsettled feeling when they saw something the same sickening shade of yellow.

This nearly forgotten horror watched, under impenetrable lock and key at the bottom of ocean, listening and waiting for its time to come again. Slowly, through centuries, the creature began to sleep. The waves calmed, the storms dissipated, and legend was soon lost. Then a researcher came into The Lighthouse, attempting to active the bright white beam that would awaken the Beast from its sleep. The Beast turned in its slumber and watched with its great eye the progress of _Sixfingers-Pines-Boundless Curiosity_. Then the foolhardy man rode out onto the blue-green waves and white bubbled foam, right into the heart of his domain. The night was dark and the frothy waves choppy, it couldn't rise from the murk and black sand but it could at least bring him to it. Then the Light flashed on and the Beast surged with power. It's long black tentacles writhed, slick and moist from so many centuries underwater. It surfaced and grabbed at the Researcher. It had know this day would come. The Six Finger's fear was sharp and poignant and precious after so many endless nights imprisoned and neglected under the water in the icy depths.

It couldn't kill Six Fingers yet, the other half of the pair was in The Lighthouse. Six Fingers was simply motivation and a plaything. It had been able to sense that Six Fingers was only half of what he should be, and that its twin was destined to be The Lighthouse Keeper. All it had to do now was wait, and each night it grew stronger as the Light shone out while the Light Keeper searched for his brother.

The Light flickered in and pierced the depths of the murk and mire as it waited, holding the Six Fingers safely in its powerful clutches. It wouldn't let him drown yet. He was still needed.

The beast wanted to take the keeper of the cipher light.

* * *

 

The Ghost of the Lighthouse shimmered and faded, brow furrowing with worry as he watched his brother work tirelessly to keep the Light shining. Stanley thought his work was fruitless but it wasn't, his brother had accomplished more in twenty years than he ever could've done in a hundred.

The Light flickered dangerously, "Useless ignoramus, I can't believe it's taken you this long already."

Ford frowned, ghostly blue-white hands forming into frustrated fists. His brother had gone through so much, still _did_ so much, yet he kept putting himself down with vicious words and hateful snarls. It didn't help that the other voices hissed at Stanley too, assaulting him while he struggled ever onwards. The worst part was when Ford sometimes couldn't stop the shadowy creature that whispered in Stan's ear as he slept, tormenting him even in his few rare snatches of accidental sleep.

Ford sighed, a hand going rub his brother's back. He knew it didn't do anything, it didn't help. In fact, he'd learned to position himself just right so that his fingers wouldn't slip through his twin's broad back. At least it made himself feel slightly better. Stanford frowned as his twin's hand went to his neck and rubbed, clearly in pain. His brother always complained about his back, nearly two decades of constant sleepless work and backbreaking tinkering taking a terrible toll on him.

Ford ran a hand through his hair as he watched Stan slowly killing himself to get him back.

Sometimes, Ford wished his brother had never happened upon his home, it would've been so much better if he'd disappeared under the waves and been forgotten by everyone who'd ever known him.

"Don't think like that, I've got to get you back, Poindexter."

Ford sighed, " _I know, Stan. I know._ "

* * *

 

The white brilliant light sputtered and Stan ran a hand through graying hair, murmuring desperately, "Please no, come on... Come on..." It blinked in and out, "Don't do this to me!"

The powerful white light winked out of existence and Stan cursed, a hand slamming the metal table. Not again. Another night, another failure. That's all he was a failure. He was never going to save his brother, no matter how hard he tried.

Stanley's hand moved to pinch the bridge of his nose. The ideas he'd had for the night had all been dashed as if they were ships on the rocks. His broken feeble hope for Ford's return that night was now nothing more than pieces of driftwood and torn sail washing up upon the gray beaches of his mind.

Stan sunk into the chair, hands covering his face and eyes strangely damp. Everything seemed so hopeless. He was never going to get his brother back, no matter how hard he tried, he was still completely and utterly _useless_.

_Worthless. A screwup. That's all you are. Nothing more than a failure. Ford is probably dead, torn apart by the relentless push and pull of the ocean. Nothing more than a battered rotted skeleton picked clean by hungry sea serpents. You killed him, you blinded him with that light and now he's nothing more than food for the fishes. You screwed up his life again and now he's payed the ultimate price for your stupidity._

Stanley choked back a sob. He was never going to get him back, was he?

_Worthless._

_Suffocating._

_Ford is dead._

Suddenly he was crying as he hadn't done in years, probably since he'd been a small child. The whispers berated him for wasting time wailing like a baby. Real men didn't cry. The words buffeted against his mind like the thunderous storm pounding mercilessly outside against the cliff face- rain, waves, and wind cracking him into only bits of the person he'd once been.

Deep racking sobs he'd suppressed with Herculean effort for so many years tore their way out of his tired throat. There was nothing he could do, he might as well leap from the balcony. He'd dried up and he'd failed at the one thing he'd needed to get right. Twenty years had come and gone, hope blossoming and crumbling alike, the continuing feeling of despair growing steadily but surely like the ebb and flow of the tide.

_Stan._

He pushed his hands up under his battered glasses. The dark unlit light bulb taunted him as Stanley ran a calloused hand through his hair. He was just so _tired_.... He was... beaten.

_Stanley, stop. Don't do this._

He might as well jump into the relentless ocean waves and succumb to the darkness of the depths like his brother had. He deserved to suffer the same fate as his twin. It was a fitting punishment for the crimes of idiocy he'd committed.

_Stan!_

Stan took a deep breath and paused.... What was he thinking?

Was he really going too...?

He couldn't give up... Not now. He'd come too far.

_You can't do that, Stanley. Don't you dare. Don't you even think about it._

He couldn't end himself now, he needed to get Ford back- even if... Even if... No matter what. He couldn't rest or pause until Stanford had been rescued from the bottom of the murky sea. Stan couldn't just leave him there like silt or discarded food for the bottom feeders. How could he have even considered the sweet allure of... Of stopping until his twin was safe and sound?

Stanley shook himself, wiping his eyes. He'd get Ford back. It just wasn't tonight. It was tomorrow. That's when he'd get the light working, that's when he'd save Poindexter. Stan just had to hold on. He'd already wasted enough time on a meltdown as it was.

Stanley picked himself up from the chair, back protesting as he did so. He just needed to try something else. If today wasn't the day he got Ford back, but tomorrow, he needed to get back to work.

"Don't worry, Sixer, I'm coming."

_I'll be waiting, Stan. I'm not going anywhere._

The stalwart form of the Lighthouse Keeper turned back to the lantern. He had work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> And here's art I made for this AU. *sceams* this AU is so good!! :D
> 
> http://awkward-introvert42.deviantart.com/art/The-Lighthouse-Keeper-674417091


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